I Cannot Pursue a Romance
by Hebbe484
Summary: A pestering ache in McGongall's side at the Yule Ball forces Dumbledore to confess something to his deputy.
1. Chapter 1

I do not attempt to claim the characters of this story as my own. They are borrowed and belong to the creative mind of Ms. J. K. Rowling.


	2. Chapter 2

The Yule Ball had started hours ago. Already in full swing, McGonagall had already witnessed her fair share of nonsense, tastelessness and teenage heartache to last her for quite some time. Try as she may, she could not find the enjoyment in tonight's festivities though not through the Weasley twins lack of trying. She had already caught them snagging unexpected persons under enchanted mistletoes that would not allow their captors escape until they kissed to the tiny bushes' standard and quality. She allowed it at the beginning as harmless fun, but when they began pairing young men to men, young women to women, and staff to student, she felt obligated to confiscate the artifact for the sake of Hogwarts' reputation. How poorly such tasteless pranks could present Hogwarts to the visiting schools. Soon after the mistletoe, she discovered them secretly putting sticking charms on couples' as they danced causing confusion and embarrassing tumbles to the floor, ultimately dragging their partner with them.

And now, she found them eyeing the refreshment table, hence her constant presence in front of the multitude of drinks. The last thing she needed was an entire student body losing even more self-control. It was here Ludo Bagman found and cornered her.

"I say, I can't recall having such a smashing time in a long while," he roared above the already blaring music the students somehow found entertaining. He reached behind her to fill a goblet careful not to slosh any on her.

"We've had little to celebrate recently it's no wonder," McGonagall replied cordially.

"Aye, right you are." He took a deep draft from his goblet. His cheeks were already blazing from the stuffiness of the hall. "That is why I intend to take full advantage of this opportunity."

"Indeed," she answered.

"Oh yes," Bagman nodded. "I plan to dance with every beautiful woman here, flirt, and perhaps I might be privileged enough for a nightcap later." He winked suggestively at her.

"What cheek you have, _Mister_ Bagman."

"Ah, but it is the perfect spot which beautiful witches, such as yourself, can smother with kisses."

"Or perhaps slap with their palms."

"You aim to wound, my dear!" Bagman roared with laughter as he refilled his goblet. "Touché."

The two stood in cordial silence as their eyes scanned the crowd, one looking on in bemusement, the other searching for mischief. It was some time before Bagman put down his glass, turned to McGonagall and said, "Considering how the conversation had come to a _slight_ lull, I am forced to ask you for your hand in the next dance." He bowed with exaggerated flourish as he extended his hand to her, palm up, and remained statuary. Only when McGonagall conceded with a sigh did he stir. Once she took his hand, he kissed her knuckles then turned her hand to kiss her palm. McGonagall shifted from one foot to the other, a movement that went unnoticed by Bagman.

When he straightened himself, he beamed at her saying, "If you ever feel the desire to slap my cheek tonight, at least I will bask in the comfort knowing it would have been rewarded with a kiss."

McGonagall could not refrain from scowling, but a small twitch tugging at the corner of her mouth indicated to Bagman that his wit was not about to be scolded. He laughed throatily as he all but dragged McGonagall into the mass of students. He spun her quickly before leading her into his arms and an upbeat foxtrot. They danced quietly, Bagman spinning unnecessarily fast when the band played a series of sixteenth notes. McGonagall soon grew tired of his foolishness and began a conversation in the hopes of distracting Bagman from his tomfoolery.

"What do you find most-"

"Tell me, my dear," he interrupted as her nostrils flared in agitation, "how is it you've come to this ball without a date?"

She stared blankly at him. He had led her astray from what once had been pleasant chatter, and she felt wary of where this subject would take them. "I'm not sure I understand."

"Despite what _you_ may believe, there is something uniquely and undeniably attractive about you," he quirked an eyebrow at her. "How did you manage to not snag a man as a date?"

Bagman could feel her muscles go rigid beneath his touch as she answered, "Firstly, this is a very personal subject that I-"

"Pish posh! Calling you attractive can hardly-"

"I don't allow people to interrupt me when I am speaking without consequence, Mister Bagman. I suggest you do not do it again," she growled in a low, forced tone, a hint of her Scottish lilt becoming prominent. Bagman swallowed as his eyes briefly darted about the hall.

McGonagall pushed on. "As I was saying, this is a personal subject. I do not know nor trust you enough to go into greater detail. And, though telling you is against my better judgment, I did not attend this ball alone. The Headmaster graciously invited me to accompany him tonight, an invitation I accepted," she finished.

In reply, he rolled his eyes. "Oh, I know Dumbledore escorted you this evening."

"Then why this ludicrous question?"

"It is not ludicrous," he chuckled. "I asked why you did not have a date tonight. Dumbledore can hardly be considered a date."

McGonagall's lips thinned as she asked, "And why not?"

"Come come, Minerva." She winced at the sound of her name. "We all know how friendly you and Dumbledore are. And that's just it; you're _friendly_."

"And you object to friends attending events together?"

"Not at all," Bagman shrugged. "But as I said, you are uniquely attractive and deserve to be" he leaned in closer so his cheek hovered against hers and whispered, "romanced."

As he pulled back, he noticed how any form of expression died on her face.

"Your flattery is appreciated, yet your concern for my 'romantic' life is unnecessary and, I must say, highly inappropriate," she stated plainly, almost in a bored tone. "I think it best not to pursue conversation of any form for the remainder of this dance."

Bagman was about to protest when he saw a flash of a challenging look flicker behind her eyes as if daring his to say anything. Instead, he genuinely smiled, utterly confusing McGonagall. He accepted her challenge and was determined to pursue her tonight, no matter the outcome. Neither said anything as the song drew on until finally concluding with a fanfare and enormous applause.

Turning to him, McGonagall said in a crisp but cordial voice, "Thank you for the dance, Mister Bagman. Enjoy the remainder of the evening." She extended her hand, which he took. As he bent to kiss it, she shook it rigorously and left him amongst the students. She made her way to the refreshment table where she found Professor Snape dragging the Weasley twins away from the punch bowl. He spotted her and waited until she stepped in front of the group.

Just as he was about to say something, McGonagall sighed, "No need to explain Professor Snape. I can guess what these two were doing or about to do. Hence my diligent guard earlier." She noted the identical smile that played on the twins' face.

"Always the perceptive one, eh Professor?" one of the twins piped up.

"Yeah, always on duty," the other answered.

"Knew there was a reason we always respected yeh."

"Never could throw the wool over your eyes."

"Enough," Snape hissed.

"20 points from Gryffindor and detention with Filch for trying to intoxicate the entire school," McGonagall said. She noted how the laughter died from their faces at the mention of Filch. Snape released the boys and the professors watched them smack and berate one another for not being more careful.

"Once again, you took it easy on your Gryffindors, Minerva," Snape drawled.

"I thought I was rather harsh considering they have detention with Filch," she replied.

Snape paused in contemplation. "I withdraw my earlier statement."

McGonagall could not help the smile that played at her lips. She spotted Pamona Sprout across the room and waved in return to the plump witch's exuberant greeting. Sprout made her way across the hall to take the position on McGonagall's left.

"The students seem to be enjoying themselves."

McGonagall nodded in reply and Snape simply scowled.

"Come now Severus," Professor Sprout smiled warmly, "there must be something enjoyable about this evening?"

He gave a sinister smile, "Only the prospect of its conclusion."

"Here here," was McGonagall's reply.

"Minerva!" Sprout gasped. "Surely you are having a splendid time. I saw you dancing with Ludo Bagman. The two of you moved quite splendidly together."

"That is purely subjective, Pomona," McGonagall snapped through gritted teeth.

Both Snape and Sprout looked at her reaction. Whereas Snape's expression gave way to no emotion with a simple raise of one eyebrow, shock and confusion plastered Sprout's face.

"What in Merlin's named happened that could evoke such a reaction?" Sprout inquired. At this Snape returned to eyeing the students, appearing to lose interest in such idle gossip.

"It is of no concern," McGonagall pushed through Sprout's question. "And is highly inappropriate to discuss at the moment."

With that, the speculation ended, Professor Sprout knew she would not receive any more information on the matter. The three professors stood in quiet diligence as each watched the events before them. On multiple occasions, Professors Sprout was called away to attend to an emotionally distraught Hufflepuff, while Professor Snape prevented potential duels between houses over a female student. McGonagall remained by the refreshments still eyeing mischief. An hour passed in such a manner when she spotted Bagman, once again making his way towards her. She purposefully kept her face expressionless when he stepped in front of her, panting slightly.

"I'm afraid I can't keep up with some of these young people today. What is it they call this? Head banging music?" he inquired.

"I wouldn't know," was McGonagall's uninterested reply.

Bagman nodded. "It's wonderfully enthusiastic, but I would be afraid of procuring a concussion with such head-banging."

She did not respond.

"It is not your type of music, though is it?" he quirked an eyebrow.

"I cannot say that it is, Mister Bagman."

"Do tell me, what is?" He grinned with interest.

"It does not matter," she replied. The entire exchange had passed without a single glance at Bagman, her eyes determinedly set on the students behind him. So focus was McGonagall that she failed to see the Headmaster waving for her attention in the crowd. It was only when he came over and placed a hand on her shoulder did she finally blink and her eyes moved from the crowd.

"Ah, Minerva," he sighed. "I do think you are watching the children too closely for the evening. You should partake in the festivities yourself."

McGonagall merely looked at him.

"A wonderful suggestion Dumbledore!" Bagman declared, a spark forming in his eyes. Unbeknownst to him though, Dumbledore caught the flicker of panic in McGonagall's eyes.

Fearing what could have put his deputy in such a state, he asked, "Whatever is wrong, my dear?"

"Nothing, Dumbledore," she said. "I guess I just do not find this sort of festivity enjoyable."  
"Then we must see to that!" Bagman exclaimed, instantly draining his goblet with intent.

Dumbledore noticed the panic reappear in McGonagall and caught on to the situation. Before Bagman could say anything more, he asked, "Would you care to dance, Minerva?"

The wave of relief that flooded through McGonagall worried Dumbledore more than the flash of panic did. He extended the crook of his arm to her. She nodded in his direction saying, "I believe I would, Headmaster. Thank you." She graciously took his arm, avoiding the crestfallen and knowing glances of Bagman.

"It is my pleasure." And with that, he lead her away. Once again in the mass of students, McGonagall allowed Dumbledore to take her waist and lead her in a slow waltz. Like Bagman, Dumbledore's dancing had flourish to it, yet of a more subtle and appropriate nature.

"I must say, when I came over to socialize, I did not expect to find you in such a state my dear," Dumbledore nonchalantly recalled just audible for he and McGonagall.

He noticed her jaw stiffen as she asked, "Whatever do you mean?"

To this, he merely quirked an eyebrow.

Refraining from sighing, she answered, "Suffice to say, my previous encounter with Ludo Bagman did not raise my spirits any."

"Yes, I gathered as much," was his reply in such a way that begged her to elaborate.

She bluntly added without a trace of emotion, "He expressed his desire to pursue me romantically." Dumbledore smiled at this. "And you approve?"

"I can honestly say I see no objection to his advancements," he replied. McGonagall pursed her lips. "But you do not?"

"I have no interest in advancement in anything romantic," was her curt answer, "least of all with Bagman."

Dumbledore's grin broadened. "You cannot deny the man has extraordinary taste."

She scoffed, "If old, widowed biddies can be considered tasteful."

His smile faded instantly at her comment. McGonagall flinched slightly at the disappointment in his eyes. "I wish you would not degrade yourself, Minerva."

"It is not degrading if it is the truth."

"I cannot argue with such logic," Dumbledore consented, "But since you are neither old nor a biddy, I am forced to object."

"You'll forgive me, Albus, but both of those are subjective and therefore can, and do, apply to me," she countered.

Dumbledore leaned closer much like Bagman had, gripping her tighter and saying in a low, almost dangerous voice, "And you'll forgive me, Minerva, for not accepting that." It sent a shiver through her entire being. Though Dumbledore had leaned back, his grip had not slackened refusing to allow her a chance to escape.

Not that McGonagall would forfeit a challenge. "You will have to accept it, Albus. We cannot all be blessed with an idealistic view of the world and the people which inhabit it."

Dumbledore abruptly stopped dancing, startling McGonagall. He gently took her arm and weaved her through the throng of students and out the Great Hall. She noticed a multitude of gazes, both student's and staff's, shift their way, yet her eyes remained fixed ahead as if stopping in the middle of a dance and leaving the hall on the arm of the Headmaster was anything but ordinary. As they walked through the Entrance Hall, they spotted Professor Snape reprimanding the Weasley twins again.

Without pausing, Dumbledore said, "I am leaving to have a private word with Professor McGonagall. Please take charge while we're away, Severus." As an after-thought, he threw over his shoulders, "And do not punish Misters Weasley too harshly. It is a time for merriment after all."

He continued to lead her up the Grand Staircase without hint of where they were headed. Farther and farther they traveled only occasionally stopping as a rogue staircase moved on them. He took her to the top of the Astronomy Tower to the railing overlooking the entire castle, grounds, forest, lake, and mountains beyond. They did not say anything, only looked out on the snow covered Hogwarts through flurries of snowflakes. McGonagall could make out the tiny forms of students below them, sneaking off with their dates no doubt for a heated moment of privacy. She even noticed how the lake had begun to freeze at the edges. She then looked towards the forest and the mountains beyond that as she let her mind wander to different times. She and Elphinstone would often wake to see the sun rise over those mountains, his arm lazily draped over her waist. Even now, years after, she would still wake with the feeling of said arm on her waist. She remembered its exact weight, where the crook of his elbow would never actually touch her, how his weight in the bed would force her body to roll into his. Strange how a simple view could evoke such strong memories.

Breaking her out of her reverie, Dumbledore finally spoke. "When you look at Hogwarts, what do you see?"

She glanced at him with a skeptical expression. Trying to make light of the tense atmosphere, she answered, "I should think I see a castle."

Once again, McGonagall winced at the disappointment in Dumbledore's countenance. "Do be serious, my dear."

She pondered. "I think of a safe haven. A place I can expect to always be present, like the entity of a guardian angel. It is a world within its own, which protects all its inhabitants simply by being. I see a fortress, my home."

Silence once again. "Do you know what I see?" He asked after several minutes.

"No, but I'm sure you will enlighten me," came her cheeky reply.

Dumbledore turned to face her. "I see you, my dear," he murmured.

She gave no reply, no change in expression. Her silence seemed to indicate he should continue and explain. "I see an unwavering force towering over everything around it. It is threatening, indestructible, monumental, sturdy. Fear is imbedded in those who might oppose it and demands respect from all. Yet it is unassuming. It is fair and just to all, providing equal opportunity no matter their family history, background, upbringing, or beliefs. It does not judge those who pass through its corridors nor does turn away those in need. And yet, despite its overpowering exterior, there is a warmth, a nurture within it. It supports, guides, and protects the children within its walls before they are released to the danger of the outside world, like that of a mother protecting her unborn child within her womb.

"As for its beauty, there are many who would call it old, past its prime, perhaps even decrepit. It is, however, none of these things. Its beauty lies in its timelessness. It may not be colorful, vibrant, or indeed modern, but it still evokes a rare beauty, one someone must search to find; but once discovered, it cannot be ignored. On first glance, it stuns one into silence, One cannot deny the elegance, the majesty, the awesome and divine aura which ripples from it. And time and time again, it manages to take one's breath away whenever one sees it. All these qualities Hogwarts possesses; as do you. If it were a living person, it would be in the form of you, Minerva.

"It is hard to ignore you, my dear. You are awe inspiring and demand attention. You cannot condemn men for noticing and pursuing you. So yes, you will forgive me if I cannot accept you being "an old widowed biddy" as you put it. My only wish is that you will one day be able to see how important and breathtaking you truly are."

McGonagall stood stunned, grasping the railing for some support. "Those are pretty words, Albus," she managed to whisper after much effort.

"They _are_ the truth, my dear," he smiled warmly placing a comforting hand on her upper arm.

She swallowed. She turned back to look out amongst the grounds lost in her thoughts again. Dumbledore watched her. He could imagine the wheels churning within her mind as she processed what he had said. Inwardly, he smiled wider. It was simply amazing how such a woman could be so incredibly influential in the wizarding world yet not know exactly how important she was. He could not help but admire her humility. It came so natural for her while he had to exercise the virtue daily.

Eventually, her eyes cleared from the haze of deep thought. She turned to him and said, "I think it time we returned to the ball. It should be ending shortly." She did not wait for an answer before she swept past him in a swirl of emerald. He watched until he could no longer hear the clack of her boot in the corridor before he took his leave. By the time he reached the Great Hall, he could see a great many students had left for their dormitories. A few stray couples could be seen dancing to the final tune until the band struck its final note and bade them all goodnight. Dumbledore managed the payment of the band while his staff helped clear the hall with the aid of the house elves. Shortly thereafter, he bade everyone farewell and headed to his rooms, noting McGonagall had already left for her rooms.

When he entered his office, however, he found that McGonagall had not gone to her rooms after all. Instead, she was standing in front of his fire, staring into its embers with her arms folded across her back. Though she was looking at the fire, he knew she was not really seeing it. Dumbledore contemplated the scene before him. Eventually, he moved to stand on her right. He placed his hand to the middle of her back and rubbed soothing circles into it.

"I cannot pursue a romance," she said quietly so that Dumbledore had to strain his ears to hear her.

He nodded his understanding.

She turned to look at him. "I cannot pursue a romance," she said again, louder this time.

"I know," he answered with a warm smile.

She turned back to the fire. "I can't do it," she breathed.

They stood in silence once more. What seemed like hours passed and still, neither made to move from their spot near the fire. It mesmerized them both.

"I think it best if we retired for the night, Minerva," Dumbledore said softly.

She nodded in consent. She turned to leave his office, abandoning Dumbledore by the fire staring after her with compassion and love in his eyes.

A couple hours later, Dumbledore lay in his bed, drifting between sleep and consciousness. He could sense something stirring outside in his office. When he heard the click of his door handle and the creak of the old hinges, he lifted his head form its pillow. Silhouetted in the moonlight was McGonagall clad in her long, tartan dressing gown looking utterly disheveled.

"Albus?"

"Minvera," he propped himself onto an elbow.

She entered his chambers, closing the door securely behind her. "I can't be alone."

He watched her. After a brief pause, he sighed, "My dear," and reached out his hand to her.

She sniffed and moved to his bed. Dumbledore pulled the covers down in front of him as McGonagall scrambled in next to him. Lying on her side facing away from him, she said, "Thank you."

He covered her before asking, "For what?"

She closed her eyes. "For earlier and before."

He rubbed her arm soothingly. "Always, my dear."

McGonagall began to shake. Dumbledore sighed and laid down behind her, gathering her into his arms and whispering, "It's alright, love. I know the loss will never subside, but it will become bearable. Simply rest for now."

Slowly, she regained control and settled into his embrace. Before she drifted to sleep, she noted how his arm felt about her waist. It felt as if she had felt it in that exact position many times before. She found the gap in the elbow to be the same as she rolled into his body and out of consciousness.


End file.
